


Mambo

by lesbianscullies



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianscullies/pseuds/lesbianscullies
Summary: Mulder and Scully are waiting for the other shoe to drop in Tampa Bay
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25
Collections: X-Files Dialogue Fanfic Exchange (2021)





	Mambo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cassiopeia12727](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiopeia12727/gifts).



> Hello, Cassi! I hope you enjoy!  
> I have to admit, this prompt was a bit challenging and I was at a bit of a loss for what to do. Then, one day I found I had a song lyric stuck in my head from the song The Alphonse Mambo by the Mountain Goats. "It's gonna be just you and me today, waiting for the other shoe to drop in Tampa Bay" and it reminded me a lot of your prompt (for obvious reasons lol). This was super fun to write. It's a little bit sillier than any of my other ideas so I hope it's okay but I always end up having so much fun when I write these two!

Tampa Bay is muggy and Mulder has never been one for the heat. It made him lethargic and frustrated. Scully also hated the heat. She hated the way sweat drenched her hair and made her clothes stick to her skin. Maybe this is why she is so goddamn angry. Though come to think of it, her anger had started before they’d even arrived in the Sunshine state.

When Mulder dropped the case-file on the desk on Thursday, she was already in a bit of a mood. The case in question, a missing persons case, didn’t even look like an X-file on the surface—though they never really do until Mulder starts talking. She’d looked the file over with a raised eyebrow before huffing and crossing her arms. “Okay, Mulder, I’ll bite. Where’s Bigfoot or little green men or the Chupacabra?” 

Mulder was already setting up his projector and she visibly rolled her eyes at this. Rough morning, Mulder figured. Everyone has their off days. “Sea monster, actually,” Mulder retorts, grinning as he changes the slide. She looks less than amused.

“A sea monster, Mulder? In Tampa, Florida? An intoxicated man falls off a boat he was driving, without a license I might add, in the middle of the night, and you think a _sea monster_ took him?” 

Okay, maybe the idea _was_ a little ridiculous when she put it like that. 

...

The moment they arrived at the motel, she locked herself in her room. The accommodations weren’t the greatest or most luxurious they’ve ever had. Far from it, in fact. As it turns out, July is in the swing of vacation season and almost everywhere was booked. Mulder would easily rate this as one of the top three grubbiest motels he has ever stayed in in his entire life. 

When they get to the beach to talk to the sheriff, a group of vacationers laugh at her and the fact that she’s had to take her shoes off and pad around in stocking feet in the hot sand. The sheriff in question, an older man with grey hair and an even greyer moustache, is of the ever-so-lovely belief that women should be at the office doing clerical work and fetching coffee, and that’s only if they aren’t at home pumping out babies and casseroles.

She grumbles all the while when Mulder tunes the radio to _Coast To Coast AM_ during the 2 a.m. drive to the beach to investigate a body that had washed ashore. She grumbles when she gets her feet wet and when she trips and falls in the sand. She snaps at him when he laughs before offering to help her up.

Scully wasn’t usually this moody. Yes, she had her share of cranky mornings or terrible, no-good, very bad days, but they almost never lasted this long. This made him nervous. Scully had always been the type to mask more genuine feelings with anger. Grief, helplessness, jealousy, fatigue, hunger, all turned to anger in the mind of Scully. “I’m _fine_ , Mulder,” she tells him when he asks what’s wrong, if she wants to rest, if she wants to grab a bite to eat. Mulder takes this personally. She already thought about leaving him once, what’s to stop her from doing it again? All he has ever done is get her into trouble, cause her pain and suffering a thousand times over, right? She tells him time and time again in quiet that this is untrue, that she needs him as much as he needs her.

  
  


Still, Mulder is unsure as to why she’s so unhappy. Scully has never been an open book. Even once the case is, for all intents and purposes, solved (though, are any of their cases ever truly solved?) and they can finally bid a fond farewell to the miserable motel rooms, she isn’t excited. Mulder decides it, he will take matters into his own hands. He would cheer her up the best way he knows how -- they are going to a baseball game.

  
  


...

Scully does _not_ want to go to a baseball game. She does not want to spend an extra night in the grubby motel, she does not want to sit on uncomfortable aluminum bleachers, does not want to listen to Mulder yell in her ear, does _not_ want to do the wave under _any circumstance_. Still, she follows Mulder. She is always following him. This case is another reminder. Their leads are weak, the case is borderline nonsensical, nothing is going her way. He won’t even let her pick the damn radio station! 

Still, Mulder’s excitement is infectious. This is the first time she’s smiled all week. Mulder even catches a foul ball and gives it to her to “remember this trip by.” He buys her popcorn and hotdogs and a large soda and doesn’t even teasingly hassle her about paying him back all the money he spent on overpriced stadium food. Mulder is being _nice_. Not that he isn’t always nice in his own way, but to the untrained eye, Mulder’s kindness can be easy to miss.

Scully tries not to think too much about it, though her curious nature doesn’t help. Mulder is stealing glances at her so often that he missed a home run shot. Even after the game, he is still being especially generous, opening the car door for her and taking her out to buy a drink. And who says chivalry is dead? 

Seated at the bar, Scully is on her second rum and Coke and Mulder is still working on his Long Island iced tea. They are talking, having fun, being friendly with each other in a way that they rarely ever allow themselves to be. Mulder is the first to speak up. 

“Scully, did you have fun today?” He looks….nervous, almost. In fact, he’s barely even looking at her at all. She would nod if he could see her. 

“Mulder, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“What do you mean, Scully? I’ve just been my regular old self.”

“The Mulder I know is _way_ cheaper than that. _My_ Mulder would never buy scalped sports tickets and spend a fortune on stadium food, not to mention trying to get me liquored up on $5 rum and Cokes!” She’s laughing freely, loosened up by the alcohol, almost tipsy. Her cheeks are soft and flushed. This only makes it harder for him. He knows what’s coming. 

“You’re worth it, Scully.” He is still sober and he means it. 

“No, really, Mulder. Why are you doing all this?”

“You’ve been in such a crappy mood this whole case. I was just worried about you, is all.” Mulder was rarely this honest, communicating mostly in one-liners and conspiracy theories. Maybe her slightly inebriated state made it easier for him to say the things he really meant. “Sometimes I worry that you’re going to realize just how big a pain in the ass it is to work with me, you know? It’s like I’m just sitting around, waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He takes a big sip of his drink. “I’ve never been able to keep a partner around for too long. Working with me is more of a chore than anything else. Everyone always decides to leave me and sometimes I think I see it in you, like I can feel you thinking about it. What you said a while back, about moving to Salt Lake City, I guess I haven’t really been able to get it out of my head. I just don’t want to lose you, Scully. I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

She reaches across and rests his hand on his, a small and seemingly innocent gesture, though it speaks volumes. “I’m sorry, Mulder. It’s just-- it can be frustrating sometimes. I feel like I’m holding you back. You drag me around on these cases but you’re always keeping something from me. And you say that you need me, that you can’t do it without me, but Mulder, what do I even do? I second guess you, I prove you wrong. But Mulder, for what it’s worth, a shoe can’t fall if you don’t toss it up. I’m not going anywhere, because I’m in this with you. I _want_ to be in this with you, Mulder.” She squeezes his hand and downs the rest of her drink in one go.

He smiles at her, and orders her another drink. "Okay, Scully, I trust you."

...

After four rum and Cokes and three Long Island iced teas, the agents are walking, stumbling side by side, laughing loudly as they talk. She is steadying herself on his arm and his eyes are bright and clear. Arriving at the seedy motel, they fish their keys out of their pockets, unlock the doors, and say goodnight. Tomorrow they will board their plane back to Washington, report to Skinner, and start another case, but tonight their faces are flushed and their smiles are wide and they are sleeping soundly in grubby motel beds.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr @x-files1993


End file.
